Coming Home
by Troonye
Summary: Okay, this is barely even falls under the category, but it is slight Wincest, maybe... First story. Sorry if it is bad. Sam and Dean reunite. No particular season. Hope you like, if you don't, please tell...


The man walked down the road, exhaustion a stone's throw from overcoming his determination. But even as he dragged his feet down the road, barely clearing the gravel, his eyes were bright and alert. In all consideration, he was moving moderately fast for one in his condition, but for him, it was less than adequate. The more ground he covered, the quicker he would be content. There was a distant rumble, something that was rare on this road, yet the man was unfazed; it was coming from the wrong direction. The car cam progressively closer, the noise of the engine gaining. Instead of speeding by, continuing on the journey, the driver pulled the car over to a stop. The man sighed, and smirked. He could deal with this with ease.

"Hey, buddy. You okay?" The driver unrolled his window, not quite sure whether to put faith on the others level of sanity.

"I'm good, thanks." The young man put a stellar smile on his face, something made others comfortable, and clearly worked on the driver.

"Do you need a ride? You don't look that good…"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm almost home."

The driver had a face of concern, maybe because there weren't any houses within twenty miles, and with a feeble attempt, tried one last time. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. But thanks, anyways." He shot the other one last smile, and the other, glanced one last time, and drove away, slowly, as if unsure.

The young man began to walk slower, his energy level decreasing with each step, but his anticipation growing. Within approximately fifteen minutes, a roar could be heard from afar. It was a unique kind of sound, something designated to certain things. But it was that certain thing that brought such a smile to the man's face that hadn't been there for a long time… A smile that reached his not only his lips, but his eyes. As a sleek black car drove smoothly down the road, he picked up his pace, stopping only when the other had. The young man at the wheel reached over, and pushed the door open with a slight, but endearing creak.

"Hop in Sammy." The slightly shorter man, with vibrant green eyes, a face full of freckles, and a mischievous grin slid back to his side as Sam settled himself on the black interior or the Impala, and felt himself relax for the first time in weeks.

"Hey Dean."

As an afterthought, as Dean reached over absentmindedly with slight smile on his face, and blared Metallica, "It seems you haven't changed your taste in music, now have you?"

"Nah, course not! Can't top this, now can you?" Dean's smile faltered slightly and he added, "But if you want, I can turn it off." He reached over, but Sam quickly put his hand over his brother in an attempt to stop him. Their hands stayed that way for a moment, or a minute, one gently over the other, before reality set in, and Sam swiped his hand back to his side. The other's hand was frozen, as if suspended in air. He slowly brought his hand back to a position on the wheel.

"Um, Dean, um, sorry man, um, I just meant to say, well, I don't want you to turn the music off. For some unnameable reason, it is sort of relaxing. Wow. I can't believe I just said that." Sam needn't explain more, for even if he had said he had found the creator of the world's largest pie, he wouldn't have listened.

Dean jumped a couple inches up, hooting, and hit his hand on the dashboard. "Sammy! I always knew it! You actually admitted, god Sammy, you finally admitted it! You like my music!"

Sam, his hair hanging in his face, attempted to look disgruntled, but couldn't help but smile. Trying to sound sarcastic, he muttered, "You got me there." Dean reached over and slapped him on the back. Sam tried to hold back his cringe, but Dean, always perceptive when it came to Sam, cringed himself, his face laced with concern and anxiety.

"Sam. You're hurt." He growled it out, wanting answers.

"Dean, don't worry. Nothing a day's rest can't heal. Dean, I said, don't worry."

"What else can I do? I haven't seen you in, how long? You expect me just to let this go? You're hurt."

Sam chuckled quietly, and muttered, "Dean, that's the point. I survived without you! I don't need you, I can take care of myself. You can take care of yourself."

"What if I don't want to take care of myself?"

"What?"

"Sam, just leave it. We can deal with it after you get some rest." They settled into silence, and though they had just had one of their fights, one of the fights, in fact, that never get settled, the one that always gets put off till tomorrow, Sam couldn't help but smile. It was like always.

Dean stayed quiet for a moment, and stared thoughtfully out into space. "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

He muttered something, to soft to hear.

"What was that, De?"

"I missed you Sammy."

"I've missed you, too."

At that moment, Sam closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath, taking in the smells of the Impala and Dean himself, and drifted off, no need to stay awake any longer. He was home.


End file.
